Impressing grandmothers, or strawberry rhubarb pie

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I am a fairly intense person, so when my boyfriend’s grandmother invited me to their family reunion in a few months my brain kicked into high gear — not so much because I was excited to attend, but because this presented an opportunity for me to prove myself as independently awesome. (What, no one is asking me to do that? I know. I have to prove myself anyway. I’m my own worst enemy. By “fairly” I really mean “rabidly” intense, and competitive against myself.) I knew I had to bring something (an etiquette tip my mother taught me: never show up empty-handed) but I wanted it to convey I am perfect. See last post — I am not perfect. So this has to be really killer.

Pies are wonderful and American and significantly less pretentious than the white chocolate cheesecake tiramisu recipe I came across. Since my hometown has a reputation for being a bit…snooty, I wanted to distance myself from those optics. I figured a pie would convey I am sweet and harmless, a girl-next-door type (lies. These are all lies). A pie would convey I am talented in the kitchen but not so talented that I don’t have other interests or hobbies. A pie is perfect.

But — what kind of pie? I’m not a fan of cherries, and I associate mixed berries with my mother’s amazing cobbler. I eventually settled on strawberry rhubarb. For those unfamiliar with rhubarb — it’s a citrusy vegetable that resembles a wide red celery stalk. Don’t eat the leaves, they WILL KILL YOU. Also do not confuse for Swiss chard. Rhubarb’s flavor helps offset the sweetness of the strawberries. It’s also a pretty unique pie flavor, and would therefore convey that I’m not basic (which is not a lie. See, I’m not a total liar with this). Perfect.

I made this recipe twice so far, and had four people plus my large extended family try it (including my uncle who is a pie wizard), and all loved it. (The first recipe was met with mixed results — thanks to JD for calling me on the crappy crust. Your constructive criticism imbues me with a healthy dose of self-doubt, and I love you for it).

— Recipe —
CRUST (THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT), makes two 9″ crusts
2 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar
2 sticks butter, very very cold (unsalted), cubed (because what even is shortening? and I’m pretty sure heaven does not smell like shortening, it smells like butter)
6-8 tbsp ice cold water AND NO MORE
–> I made this in a food processor, but you can make this by hand if you are VERY CAREFUL TO NOT OVERWORK THE DOUGH. I did a ton of reading (obscene amounts of obsessive reading) on pie crusts (because I have a thriving social life and a lot of friends), and the more gluten that forms the tougher and less flaky it’ll be — so do not overwork the dough.
–> Combine dry ingredients. (Pulse in food processor or stir together)
–> Add in the butter, cubes at a time. Mash with a fork or add into the food processor. It MUST be cold, because of science reasons (coldness deters gluten production, or something). You know you’re done when the butter is in tiny, pea-sized chunks. Do this fast so the butter stays cold. Do not start this, watch an episode season of a Netflix show, and come back. It’ll be ruined.
–> Add in the ice water one tablespoon at a time. Do not pulse for more than 20 seconds in the food processor, and if you’re doing this by hand try to stick with the fork — your hands are warm and will soften the butter.
–> Divide into halves, wrap in saran wrap, and leave in the fridge for 1-4 hours. Or the freezer for 15 minutes, as I did the last time I made this since I was in a rush to make it to Easter mass.
–> Roll out each half. One will be your bottom crust, and the other will be the top. Duh. Math.

FILLING
1 pint (16 oz) strawberries
2 stalks rhubarb
1 cup sugar (regular, granulated, white)
1/2 cup flour
Juice of 1/2 a lemon
–> Cut up the strawberries and rhubarb. Leave them kinda chunky, otherwise it’ll all melt down into jam. Add the lemon juice. Make sure it is fresh lemon juice. The stuff that comes in the lemon-shaped bottle is only acceptable if you are making something for someone you hate.
–> In a separate bowl, mix together the sugar and flour, and then add it to the strawberry/rhubarb bowl. Make sure everything is evenly coated, and then spoon into the crust. There will probably be leftovers at the bottom of the bowl. USE THEM, sprinkle across the top. If you don’t, your pie will be runny and gross and no one will ever love you.
–> Put the top crust on and cut fun shapes in it. Or not. But you do need to cut something in it, or the steam will have nowhere to go and the pie will explode. You could do a lattice, but I love the taste of this crust and wanted to use all the dough.

–> Bake for 30-45 minutes at 375 degrees. “What, you don’t have this exactly measured?” Hell no, that is not how I bake. Also, I don’t have food telepathy. You will know when the pie is done, because the crust will be golden brown and your house will smell like butter, which is what heaven smells like.
–> Put your pie pan on a bigger baking sheet, in case some of the filling bubbles up over the sides.
–> Ta-da! Even if you have no concrete expectations of marrying your boyfriend, his grandmother will insist upon it because that is how good your pie is.